Page 36 of Whispers of My Skin

Oh, how I wish I was a little girl again, when life was much simpler. I used to love playing make believe, happily skipping around in my fairy wings, waving my magic wand, believing I could set the world to rights.

If only.

What can’t speak can’t lie, and my reflection presents me with a brutally honest picture. I’ve lost so much weight you can count my ribs, and my pale skin has a nasty yellowish tinge. I’m told this will worsen as my condition progresses, but what can I do? It is what it is. God, I hate that saying.

But there’s no point to this pity party. Not when I have to get on with dealing with the man currently waiting for me in the kitchen, along with what’s left of my sad, pathetic life.

I step in the shower, hoping the hot water will revitalize me sufficiently to hold my own against my new husband. I can’t allow myself to cave into the physical attraction between us again. If I haven’t the strength to overcome that, then how on earth can I expect to deal with everything after?

Twenty minutes later, I’m making my way down the stairs wearing Daisy Dukes and a tank top. My hair is pulled back in a high ponytail, I’m makeup-free and barefoot. There’s no need for primping, I’m not out to impress. This is me, I am what I am. He knows me well enough. And yet not at all.

Joel is waiting for me in the kitchen, standing by the table where we were supposed to share our dinner. Before everything went crazy. Before I knew the truth.

Acting the gentleman, Joel pulls out the chair and gestures for me to sit. As I slide into the seat, he slides in next to me, his hand brushing against my bare arm.

And just that whisper of a touch sends sparks flashing throughout my body.

I ignore them—I have to focus on what we’re here to deal with. But before I can say anything, Joel hands me his cell phone.

“Take a look at these pictures,” he says.

“Why are you showing me these?” I see some photos on Facebook of the bitch hugging an older bald guy. “That guy is Stephen, Cassandra’s husband. They’re very happily married, and it’s his baby she’s carrying, not mine,” Joel states emphatically. “Cassie and I are just good friends, nothing more. There’s never been anything romantic between us, she’s like a sister to me.”

I shake my head and gape at him in disbelief, then look again at the photos. I can’t deny Cassandra and this guy look the picture of happiness as they beam happily at the camera. But this can’t be right, I’ve seen the way that bitch looks at Joel, how possessive she is towards him.

“Look at the date,” he insists, noting my skepticism. “Those pictures are very recent, they were posted just last night.”

I’m struggling to take in what I’m seeing, but there’s no disputing the date on the pictures is indeed from last night.

“But I’ve seen the way she acts with you…”

“We. Are. Just. Friends, Tara. You know, it is possible to have a platonic friend of the opposite sex,” he arches his eyebrows.

“Yes, of course I know that. But trust me, your buddy Cassandra ‘likes’ you in much more than a platonic way,” I repeat. Call it female intuition, but I know she’s interested in Joel.

“No, you’ve got it all wrong, Tara,” he insists adamantly. “Cassandra is very happily married to Stephen, she’s expecting his baby and certainly isn’t interested in anything other than friendship with me. We are friends and nothing more. Nothing.”

I remain silent, unconvinced.

“I’m not a cheater, Tara. I would never cheat on you. Never. You have to believe that.”

His hand gently caresses my cheek, his eyes pleading for me to believe him, to trust him.

But I can’t let it drop. Maybe Joel needs to look a bit deeper into this ‘platonic’ relationship, because even if he can’t see it, there’s no question in my mind that the bitch regards Joel as her property. Sure, looks aren’t everything, but cynically, my guess would be the paunchy bald guy she hitched herself to would be her loaded sugar daddy.

“Let me just ask, do you share the same kind of platonic relationship with any other girl of your acquaintance? Or just Cassandra?”

He stares at me. “What are you implying?”

“Just checking how many other females I can expect to pop up out of the woodwork, poking their noses in where they have no business to.”

Joel rolls his eyes at my sarcastic comments, then hands me a manila folder containing some papers.

“The reason I involved Cassandra and her husband was for advice, since they have a great deal of experience and a lot of useful contacts in the ranching business. It was through them I got my last job—you know, the really great position I gave up, without hesitation, to help you out?”

“Yeah, I suppose I should have thanked you for that,” I murmur, realizing I’ve selfishly taken for granted the way Joel instantly dropped everything for me when I turned to him for help. Looking at things from his perspective, can I really blame him for wanting some kind of security in exchange for giving up his livelihood?

“Yeah, maybe you should’ve. Anyway, Cassie and Stephen also run a real estate company—you may have heard of Cohen Real Estate? And yes, you overheard us discussing selling the ranch, as she quite rightly suggested it made sense to consider all options before ruling anything out.”

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